Chapter Text
Those blue eyes were too familiar. Maxim could pick him out in a sea of a thousand men with the same buzzed hair and strong features, but he wouldn’t have to because it seemed like it was the law of nature for both of them to gravitate towards one another. There were invisible forces acting upon them, the same ones that had Timur approaching him when they noticed each others’ presence. He did not necessarily start a conversation, sometimes he liked to just linger closeby and Maxim, as much as he refused to admit it, he enjoyed his company.
When Timur first joined the Spetsnaz, it was a breath of fresh air. After having been around Alexsandr and Shuhrat for months, their companionship had grown stale like eating the same meals everyday. Alexsandr was warm, though in a suffocating way and while Maxim appreciated him, he didn’t enjoy being smothered in his unwavering optimism. Then there wasn’t much explaining needed with Shuhrat. The man didn’t talk much. He could go days without saying a word if no one spoke to him and that was simply how he was- in ways, Maxim was very much like him but with the two of them combined, they seemed to drain the life and soul from the party no matter how many times Alexsandr tried to pep them up. That was where Timur slotted in too nicely and it felt as if Maxim would never get bored of him.
Timur had an innate skill at navigating conversations like no other. While he wasn’t as bright as Jordan and the other Americans who were known for being social butterflies, he had a way of making Maxim feel as if he was actually interesting, whether that be talking about their careers to reminiscing about the troubles they got themselves into during their childhood. Then on days where the mood was low, he knew when to speak and when silence would be preferred. He adapted his approach to everyone in such a way that it felt personal, even special, and Maxim never realised how satisfying someone’s presence could be until now.
Shuhrat seemed to like Timur and enjoyed conversing with him, which said a lot. If someone was able to weasel their way into his comfort zone and be graced a place to stay there, then it meant Shuhrat had made up his mind about their new teammate and his verdict was that he certainly liked Timur.
Aside from being an overall pleasant person, Timur was one of many hobbies. As much as Maxim liked to poke fun at him for it, his artworks were beautiful, often abstract yet expressive. When he focused on drawing objects or landscapes, he captured every fine detail without fail and it was always enchanting to sit next to him, watch with an eye peeking over his shoulder as he sketched, completely unaware. His photography was a mystery which Maxim would never understand. Timur liked to snap shots of whatever interested him as they went on their journeys, capturing the memories in small Polaroids and every one he took was with purpose. He didn’t carry much film, but he rarely wasted any.
There was the occasional time where he would ask, “Can I take a photo of you?” And Maxim was left stammering, not knowing what he should be doing or how to stand. He questioned why Timur would choose him as a subject of his photography, as he didn’t see himself to be particularly dazzling unlike the colourful markets they visited or the grand landmarks that retained a timeless beauty. “Don’t move! You’re perfect.” Rigid as a marble statue, he wondered if he should look into the camera. Timur took one careful shot without hesitation. Maxim figured that was what he wanted from the way he expressed, ‘You’re perfect.’ with such passion that had Maxim’s entire being radiating a kind of warmth one would feel when complimented by someone whose opinion mattered so much.
Their friendship was kindling but it left Maxim with great confusion. The way Timur made him feel, the emotions he evoked when those minor gestures of standing close by or taking a photograph, had an impact which Maxim hadn’t felt in years. It was troubling at first, Maxim tried to dissect his own thoughts as to why he cared about it to this extent and despite the hours he spent pondering over it, he came to no clear conclusion.
The images his mind had captured, of Timur’s smile to the way he laughed, the slight twinkle in his eyes when he listened so intently- Maxim pushed all of that away. It wasn’t right, he didn’t want to think of that nor did he know why he was thinking of it. They were just friends and nothing more than that. He told himself to stop making it so weird but it only got more difficult as time went on.
The rattle of gunfire occupied his turbulent mind. It was any other day at the shooting range with a little more emphasis on using a variety of marksman rifles, the kind of weaponry which Maxim never bothered himself with. He absently went through the motions and it was as simple as aim, shoot, hope to hit the targets, shoot again until the magazine was empty. As he reloaded, he sensed there was someone looking over his shoulder. He glanced over.
“What?” He took off his ear protectors and spared Timur a languid smile, wondering why he was watching. “Take a photo. It’ll last longer.”
Timur raised a brow. “So I can stare at you hunched over, half-asleep?” He quipped back then scrutinised the spread of Maxim’s shots on the target, noting how many shots were bordering the edges. “You can do better. Let me help.”
Their gorka suits crinkled as Timur stepped closer and aided him by clasping his hands over Maxim’s. He guided him and held him steady, understanding this as if it was within his muscle memory. The rifle jolted as Maxim pulled the trigger and landed a clean shot centre mass. “Good. Now pace your shots, readjust after each shot,” Timur instructed, his voice barely a muffle but every word he said had Maxim’s thoughts running wild with anxiety. He heard what Timur said, but did not comprehend any of it and he fired his magazine haphazardly, not changing a single thing from before.
His hands slicked over with sweat in his gloves and he grew too aware of how his tongue sat heavy in his mouth. Next thing he knew, he was thinking of everything but the advice he was given. Timur’s touch was electric and the sensation of his light breaths ghosting over Maxim’s nape nearly made him shiver. Now he was at the mercy of the hands which were grasping onto his forearms so firmly, the warmth from Timur’s body pressed up against his back.
“Focus, Maxim.”
“I can’t when you’re spooning me, man.” Maxim’s style of humour was always cheeky and crass, the essence of his being. They exchanged mutual grins and Timur backed off with his hands up in the air, feigning that he had been caught in the crime. “Take me out to dinner first, yeah?”
“I’ll treat you to dinner if you take this seriously,” Timur chastised in a playful tone, a grin toying at his lips.
Before their superiors caught them slacking off, he gave Maxim a nod then slinked away to oversee how the recruits were progressing. Maxim stood with an air of haughtiness around him, somewhat impressed at Timur’s gall to put him in his place, and his eyes followed Timur when he paced down the walkway only to stop every now and again to make minor corrections to form and technique.
Though he did consider what Timur said and decided it was best to wake up, put a little elbow grease into the minor amount of work he needed to do. For a while Maxim focused on cleaning up his shots and the ability to do so was always there, hindered by his own sloth. He couldn’t enjoy the rhythm of a slow-firing marksman rifle if he tried, it required patience from him that didn’t come easy, especially when it came to firearms. Most of his engagements were always closer and the concept of picking off a target from three hundred metres away wasn’t his preferred method of dealing with a hostile.
After some time, Timur returned. His expression was expectant and the tiny smile that bloomed on his face filled Maxim with triumph when he inspected his targets, pleased at the clusters of shots grouped neatly together.
“So, I’m thinking of barbecue ribs tonight,” Maxim brought up, spurred by the small chuckle he gave. At the suggestion, Timur nodded too enthusiastically and he made a noise in agreement, the thought of it alone was enough to make him cave. “God, I’d kill for a nice rack of ribs and a beer.”
As they were caught up in their small discussion of what they should eat in eight hours’ time, a soldier jogged up to them. He wasn’t amongst the group who were at the range, but rather one who had been doing his duties back at the base and was told to send a message.
“Alexsandr wants to see you two,” he said between huffs and puffs, but did not say why. Timur and Maxim looked towards one another and exchanged the same thought. Were they in trouble? “He said it was important.”
The walk back was quiet. Neither of them were one for speculation- or rather, they did not fuel each other’s speculation by talking about it. Of course they were concerned with the matter at hand, even worried in case it was disciplinary. There were only so many possibilities as to why they would be called away in an emergency and Maxim knew Alexsandr took these kinds of things seriously, he would not put them in a position like this unless it was necessary.
A soldier escorted them to the small conference room. Shuhrat and Alexsandr were already there, seated with briefing files in front of them. Two other files were placed by the empty chairs and a woman motioned for them to sit. Guards in suits stood stationed at the sides of the room and it was lucrative, like a scene from a spy movie and Maxim entertained himself with the idea of it.
The woman introduced herself as the deputy-director of a reactivated counterterrorism unit named Rainbow.
“The four of you have been selected amongst the elite to join Rainbow. My advisor, Harry, believes you are best suited for the job and if you accept this offer, you will play a crucial role in representing your nation and working alongside others to combat rising threats to our safety,” she spoke, each word as cold and calculated. Her eyes studied them, observing their reactions to be hesitation or nervousness. “Details of this promotion will be in those files. If you wish to opt out, it is essential that you notify your superiors as soon as possible. Although I hope to be working with you all very soon. It is a shame I can only stay for so long but this was the time I had allotted.”
They weren’t there for long before she stood to leave and as she passed, she looked readily at the both of them with a small smile on her face as if to tease their punctuality. Maxim sensed they missed the majority of the meeting, maybe he glossed over an important email that morning. Alexsandr stood and shook her hand. “And we will not disappoint, ma’am,” he told her firmly and offered her a warm smile. In response, she returned the gesture to be polite then promptly left, followed by her entourage.
As the door closed, Maxim flicked his file open where he discovered documents addressed to him. Confidential this, confidential that, do not disclose to anyone else- part of himself scoffed at the seriousness of the entire thing. Then as he continued to read through it all, he caught onto a detail. Rainbow’s base of operations was in Hereford, England. If he were to accept this offer then it meant travelling abroad. He wasn’t foreign to this practice but after being settled back in Russia for so long, he was reluctant to leave again.
For Timur, it was a no brainer. Perhaps it was his youth or his wanderlust but he didn’t think about it for too long before he made up his kind, nor did he understand why Maxim mulled over it.
It hadn’t been long since they had dinner, yet Timur was craving something sugary already. They walked for twenty minutes after a hefty amount of convincing that he knew the best place in the city to find some dessert at this time and Maxim yielded, unable to say no especially after Timur implored him so many times. The cafe they sought shelter in was eccentric to say the least, compact yet homely, one of those kinds of places where authors and aesthetes like him would be drawn to.
They were seated at a small booth and given their menus. Maxim turned it over in his palms a couple of times then he smiled, nodding towards the little candle on their table.
“Cute,” he commented and studied the pieces of art lining the brick wall. There were artificial plants lining the rafters, fairy lights illuminating the dark space as the smooth drawls of a female singer echoed from a vintage speaker. From the atmosphere itself he knew this was somewhere that Timur adored, it had all the little enrapturing details. “Feels quite uh… romantic.”
Timur’s eyes flicked up at him from where he studied the menu then the corners of his lips tugged upwards into a relaxed smile. “Of course, the first date has to be special,” he joked back in a teasing tone, eating up how Maxim rolled his eyes and tried to not look too flustered. “There’s Black Forest gateau, your favourite.”
They placed their order after a couple minutes of browsing what was available. Then when the waitress drifted off, Maxim turned his gaze down the aisle of booths and spotted the singer sitting on a small stage with an acoustic cradled in her arms. He watched her for a while before he noted Timur, the small twitch of anticipation in his lips when he wanted to speak.
“You’re not seriously thinking of turning it down, are you?” He asked and raised his brows in genuine concern, searching for answers on Maxim’s face.
Maxim held back his laughter but he couldn’t hide his own grin. “Hell no, this is… it’s good. I just feel homesick already,” he said and let out a woeful sigh. He cracked his knuckles as he stretched and Timur cringed at the pop of his bones. “When you get to my age, everything becomes a giant hassle and when the hassle is moving to England out of all places, you get a little cranky.”
“You’re not that old,” came Timur’s reassurance, spoken in an absentminded sincerity. He clasped his hands over one another comfortably and swept the view around them. “It’ll be a good opportunity to meet new people, go to places, and I’m sure the pay will be good. It’s not like you’ll be barred from coming back here.”
It made sense. He would advance his career then retire in a cosy apartment in Moscow with a generous pension, that were the goals Maxim set a long while ago except recently he became complacent with his position here, reluctant to move elsewhere. This promotion offered that momentum and to turn it down would be the greatest regret in his life, every instinct in his body told him so.
They sat back as their desserts came with their drinks. The waitress set down the mugs of hot cocoa, wished them a good meal and left promptly to serve others. Maxim stirred his drink a couple times before he spoke, “I’ll take it for sure, don’t you worry.” And he snagged his fork from the table as Timur motioned for him to take a bite of his cake. It was better than he expected and enough to make him forget the fuss he gave when Timur was insistent that they should come.
Some of the simple pleasures in life were indulging oneself in sweet treats and Timur knew how to enjoy himself. He smiled at Maxim’s reaction and graciously accepted the maraschino cherries he picked off.
One would think with the prestige that Rainbow held as a revived counterterrorism unit, they would be able to afford better accommodation for their operatives, yet when they arrived and settled in, their rooms were not too much better than the dorms they received at any other military base they’ve stayed. Aside from being a little more spacious, the rooms were for two and the beds not too far apart. It became quickly known to all the operatives if they desired any sort of privacy, they ought to sort out private living arrangements.
The upside of being packed together in the barracks, socialising wasn’t hard at all. It wasn’t as if they could leave work, drive home and ignore each other. For the first weeks, there was a constant exposure to everyone else and no matter where they went to escape, there was always a chance of bumping into a colleague trying to do the exact same. So many names to keep track of, all the nationalities became a blur in Maxim’s head but to his surprise, his English wasn’t as rusty as he expected it to be.
Most of the time, he kept to himself. There was no one in particular that drew him in. Perhaps James although the man was too loud and expressive, it was clear British blood flowed through his veins and while it was entertaining, Maxim preferred to avoid the noise. Dominic was friendly enough, they occasionally bummed cigarettes off one another, sat together outside the barracks in the evening for a smoke yet none of their conversations went anywhere. They knew each other but it would be hard to classify them as friends- colleagues at best.
Then Timur, who dipped his toes into every small friend group, had nearly everyone’s names learnt from day one. It was difficult to pinpoint where he stood, as one moment he could be laughing away with Jordan and Miles then absorbed in something mind-itching with a very much eccentric Marius. He thrived in the new environment and at one point Maxim feared he was losing grasp on their friendship. In particular, it was Mark who threatened him the most.
The two of them got along too well and he had no idea why or how, but Timur had his ways to make quiet people talk. Though from eavesdropping, Maxim concluded that he wasn’t quiet but rather, he loathed small-talk. One of his redeeming qualities was the fact that unlike the other members of the SAS, he could go a day without mentioning the weather. Like Maxim, Mark was also enamoured by Timur’s ability to discuss nearly any topic under the sun, from the mundane history of this town to deconstructing the process of creating art. It wasn’t that they had a million things in common that brought them together, they simply enjoyed the company of one another.
Despite all the new friends, Timur still had a natural inclination to follow Maxim around. They ate lunch together in the canteen in quiet conversation no different than usual but when Timur’s attention piqued to something else, Maxim couldn’t help but notice the inviting smile that appeared on his face. Timur waved Mark over and then came along the rest of the SAS, invading their table with their boisterous mannerisms. Maxim witnessed their discussion and he began to wonder if like how Shuhrat and Alexsandr’s charm began to wear off, that he was also growing stale for Timur.
“There’s this place that opened up like two weeks ago, I heard it’s pretty good. D’you wanna go after work and we’ll check it out?” Mark suggested, speaking louder than a mumble for once and the look on his face was expectant.
Timur perked up. “Yeah, sure,” he agreed, perhaps touched that someone would invite him to something that went on outside of work. Everyone was still warming up to one another, trying to find their ground, so the offer came as a surprise.
That was how Maxim realised he would be spending the evening alone. Not that he minded, it was just odd being by himself and as much as he hated to admit it, he did feel lonely. Loneliness wasn’t the only emotion stirring in him. As he reflected back on earlier, he found himself growing irritated when he recalled the sound of them chattering away, laughing at some lighthearted banter and the general exchange repelled him. This was jealousy in its purest form and Maxim didn’t want to be this way. Timur wasn’t his and despite that, he didn’t want to share him with anyone.
Why was Mark so keen to be his friend anyways? Maxim scratched his stubble as he lay in his bunk, one hand swiping away at his phone and his thoughts churned in his head, around and around his mind like a motor purring. There were numerous possible reasons, but the only one that stood out to him was the potential that Mark was attracted to Timur. He considered how Mark talked to James or Seamus and found that there were slight differences. For one, he smiled a lot more. Then there was an absence of sarcasm in his speech which was unlike the Brit whose natural response to anything was to be slightly patronising.
The clock read eleven o’clock. They left at six, so by now they would've finished dinner long ago unless Timur had managed to persuade him to detour, craving sugar. No, if it were any other restaurant, he would’ve ordered dessert from the menu there as well. Where the hell were they? Maxim locked his phone and placed it on his chest as he stared up at the ceiling. Without any distraction, the thoughts he was trying to keep at bay were now overflowing.
Images of them kissing, lips wet and hands roaming and touching all over invaded his mind no matter how hard he tried to think of anything else. This wasn’t right. They were his coworkers, two men, one of whom he regarded as a close friend. To imagine them doing that was blasphemy to their friendship and Maxim was disgusted with himself.
The bed frame squeaked as he got up. With haste he made his way to the communal bathroom and turned on the tap, haunted by the thought of two bodies pressed together, skin against skin and the breathy sighs, moans that echoed. The cold water against his face helped bring him back to the present then he looked at himself in the mirror, analysing the sight of him as he stared back with droplets running down his neck, the gaze of a man disturbed by his own dirty ruminations.
Though that was the least of his worries. His trousers hugged around him too snuggly and he glanced down, realising that not only had those thoughts even entered his mind, but they aroused him.
He needed to take care of this.
Some of the operatives at Rainbow designed and developed their own gadgets, while others worked alongside technicians, engineers and scientists to create a gadget that would aid them on their operations. For Maxim, he preferred to create his own traps. It was always better, in his opinion, to use something that he was familiar with. While he often consulted others on optimising the design of it, he tinkered with his own prototypes and tested a variety of traps. There wasn’t a whole lot to do during his downtime, so in the early afternoons he found himself alone in the workshops.
Even with the task at hand, nothing could lift him out of the rut he got stuck in. He was troubled. Not only could he not fathom the fact that he had masturbated to the fantasy of his colleagues having sex, it was that they were both men and that had never even been something he considered to be titillating of any degree. He could tell himself a million times it was wrong but no matter what he did, it could never change the fact that this did happen. Why? The more questions he asked himself, the more flustered he became and his palms became slick with sweat. His body felt hot all over as he skittered around trying to dissect his mind as to why he it was possible for him to get off to it in the first place.
The sensation of a hand clasping onto his shoulder shook him out of his thoughts. The components he had been holding together slipped from his grasp and clattered across the workbench. As he caught some screws before they rolled off the edge, he glanced up and caught Timur’s tired smile. It was impossible to look him in the eye without horrible flashbacks to last night, so Maxim focused on his gadget.
“Brooding again, I see,” Timur said and took a seat near him. He crossed his arms across the surface and rested his head on his toned forearms, his inquisitive gaze watching with catlike interest as Maxim screwed down the external casing of his trap. “Didn’t mean to wake you up last night.”
The only response Maxim knew was to raise a brow and pretend he wasn’t impressed at all. “You had to bump into everything on your way to bed, hm?” He hummed under his breath and set aside the first prototype. Then he gathered the components for the next and began to carefully assemble them. “How was your date with Chandar?”
Timur paused at his diction then let out a small sigh. “Let’s see… we had dinner, then we had a couple pints at the pub. What the hell are you trying to get at?” He let off a short chuckle to defuse the situation but it was clear he wanted clarity as to why Maxim chose to describe it like a date.
The shrapnel was loaded into a small chamber that would provide the destructive power of the gadget, but the compact nature of the trap meant everything had to be placed precisely. Maxim fiddled with it then swore under his breath as a sharp edge tinged his thumb red with blood and he sucked on it. “What?” He paused again and inspected his injury then looked up at Timur. Timur looked back readily, but his eyes flicked down to his thumb and he shifted in his seat as if to retrieve the first aid kit, then he didn’t move. “You don’t see it? The way he talks to you, how he even looks at you-“
“Jesus, man. It’s not like that,” Timur interjected, perhaps with a little too much urgency that sprung an alarm in Maxim’s head. Had he not been occupied with his bleeding thumb, he would’ve spared Timur a look of doubt. “I’m not into him- we’re just friends. I mean, I sure as hell didn’t see it that way, I’ll tell you that.”
Too frustrated and sore to continue fidgeting with something Marius could do for him in under five minutes, Maxim motioned for them to leave. “Alright, I’ll take your word for it,” he reassured him with a teasing smirk that said the exact opposite.
Their walk back to their dorms was silent. Maxim didn’t have to even look at Timur to know he was busy thinking and he always liked to joke that he could hear the cogs in his head turning. He made a beeline to laze atop his bed while Timur slinked into the room behind him, almost reluctantly then he sat on his own bed and seemed restless. He looked towards his small sketchbook for a couple seconds as if he desired to do something that would occupy his hands but then he decided against it.
Now would be an excellent time for a nap. Afternoon sun streamed through the tiny, foggy window of their dorm, filling the room with an embracing warmth and the ambiance of the empty barracks when everyone was out and about with their functions created the optimal environment to peace-out for a couple hours. Maxim cracked an eye open and he glanced over to Timur to see that he had laid down as well, blinking at the ceiling with his hands behind his head. Then they made eye contact and Timur studied his expression, gauging something.
“He… he- uh, we kissed- no, he kissed me,” Timur told him and Maxim couldn’t decipher if it was an admission of guilt, but either way the information had the fog of sleepiness in his head clearing up in an instant. “We had too much to drink and then when we were walking back, he kissed me. I said I wasn’t into him, because I’m not, but I feel like shit now.”
Maxim felt as if there was a glitch in the matrix and a morbid entertainment came from this newfound knowledge. He cleared his throat as he thought of what was appropriate to say. “Was he upset?” He probed for more information.
“I couldn’t tell. Embarrassed as hell, I can say that.” Timur let out a sigh then groaned, rubbing his palms into his face to comfort himself. “He’s such a nice guy but… fuck.”
There were many things to unpack from this and Maxim figured he would need an entire evening to himself to pick it apart. For now, he tried to preserve the conversation in his mind. “Less than two months here and you’re already breaking hearts,” he commented and laughed, hoping the lighthearted joke would ease Timur’s mood and it did, but slightly. “My, my, Timur.”
In ways, this was a victory for him. Mark’s blunder could very well mean that their friendship would be stuck in an irrecoverable state of polite smiles and awkward conversations, especially after such rejection. Then what piqued Maxim’s interest more was that Timur didn’t ever deny that he was gay, but rather he chose to express that he wasn’t romantically interested in Mark. Perhaps he was comfortable enough with himself that he didn’t need to make it explicitly clear, but Maxim found it interesting alongside his tame reaction to the incident.
Although what Maxim never expected was to look at Timur and somehow end up imagining him kissing other men as if he was starring in softcore pornography. When it wasn’t Timur doing inappropriate things then it was just him and his proportionate features, that strong jawline and the way his eyes almost dazzled when he spoke to Maxim. This was some sort of fucked-up curse that he had to live with and Maxim had no idea how to remedy it. There was no way he could avoid Timur either and no amount of convincing could shift his stubborn mind. When he considered that he hadn’t ever thought of a woman in this way, Maxim began to realise that this wasn’t a minor issue.
This isn’t me, he had tried to make himself believe. Though through the thick denial he submerged himself in, he dreaded to confront his reality.